


Your Shadow On the Windowsill Was The Highlight Of My Day

by AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Artist Feyre, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Light-Hearted, pre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed/pseuds/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed
Summary: Based on this prompt from fyotpprompts on Tumblr:"Would you STOP coming in through the WINDOWS, it scares the hell out of me every TIME!" neighbors au. Or in which Rhys delights in visiting Feyre





	

Feyre studied the easel in front of her. The colors didn’t seem quite right; they were too vibrant, considering how muted the sunset she was trying to recreate had been. Grasping at straws and stirring a bit of yellow and orange together, she lifted a brush, beginning to make soft, flat strokes-

 

“I think you could use a little pink in there, yellow and orange are so frightfully dull-”

 

Feyre yelped, dropping her brush, and it clattered on the paint-spotted floor. “Rhys!” she scolded, turning in her wooden chair to face the man perched on her windowsill, who had climbed in via fire escapes, the tree sitting in between their apartment buildings, and her balcony. “How many times have I told you not to do that?” she scolded.

 

“At least ten, if not more,” Rhysand replied as if bored. 

 

“So what does that tell you?” she prompted.

 

“That you are a very lonely soul and you need more friends,” he answered, grinning. Feyre scowled and bent down to pick up her brush. “I’m not lonely,” she snapped. 

 

Rhysand  _ tsked _ . “That’s what all the lonely souls say,” he said loftily, his violet eyes glimmering with unshed laughter. 

 

She rolled her eyes. “Why are you here, Rhys?”

 

“Mor and Azriel kicked me out. I think they’re fucking each other senseless right now,” he responded, referring to his cousin/roommate and her boyfriend.

 

“Thanks. I totally wanted to know that,” she said sarcastically.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said sweetly. Pushing himself off the windowsill, he landed smartly inside the studio of Feyre’s apartment. “So, darling Feyre, what are you painting today?”

 

“A painting,” she snarked. 

 

“Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What are you painting a picture of?” 

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“No need to be touchy. Can’t I be curious about what my neighbor across the way gets up to?”

 

“No.”

 

“Shame,” he yawned. She stabbed her brush into the paint and continued her rhythm of brushstrokes. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, something Rhysand obviously couldn’t allow.

 

“...I’m judging by your silence you’d rather I climb back over to my apartment and listen to Mor and Azriel screw each other’s brains out.”

 

“Mm, no, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone,” she deadpanned, sending Rhysand into a fit of laughter. “So, are you going to let me play Bob Ross and paint in peace, or are you going to talk incessantly with that big mouth of yours?” she asked.

 

“This ‘big mouth’ can do incredible things, Feyre,” he told her, his tone taking on a slight purr.

 

“Sit down already.” 

 

“As you wish.” As if on cue, his legs folded under him and he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

 

He glanced around the sparse studio. “You should really get a couch, or curtains, or something in here,” he commented.

 

“Pay for it and you can use it, too,” she countered.

 

He grinned. “What color?”

 

Knowing he was only joking, she played along. “Midnight blue.”

 

“Ah, so particular,” he teased her.

 

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the easel and continued painting.

* * *

 

A week later, Feyre got a knock on her door. When she opened it, she was surprised to see two workers from a nearby furniture store standing there with a very large delivery for her: a midnight blue loveseat.

* * *

 

The next time Rhysand crawled through the window, the loveseat was tucked comfortably into the corner of the room. “Love what you’ve done with the place, Feyre darling,” he said lightly. Before she could say anything, he’d tossed himself onto it. 

 

“Hey-”

 

“You said I could use it if I paid for it,” he reminded her, settling back into the cushions. “I’m collecting my end of the deal.” 

 

“ _ You paid _ -never mind. Of course you did,” she muttered. “What else could I expect from you?”

 

“Can’t say I never go through with anything,” he replied. 

 

“Fair enough.” 

 

“No painting today?” He gestured to all the paint supplies piled up in overflowing filing cabinets up against the wall.

 

“I was going to experiment with charcoal today,” she explained.

 

“Ooh, how exciting.” 

 

She considered tossing her sketchbook at him. “I just don’t know what to draw.” Feyre rubbed a bit of charcoal onto her fingertips.

 

“Why don’t you draw me?”

 

Her blue-gray gaze flicked up to meet his violet eyes. “You?” 

 

“Why not?” He smiled winningly at her, flashing perfect, even teeth. “Don’t tell me I have to do the ‘French girls’ line.”

 

She shuddered. “Oh, God, no.” Still, she thought, it would be nice to draw Rhysand. He had a really interesting bone structure, with his angular cheekbones and strong nose…

 

Damn it, she was letting attraction and artistic eye mix again.

 

Really, she would’ve preferred to  _ paint _ Rhysand, with his so-black-almost-blue hair and violet eyes. 

For now, though, she could settle for a charcoal drawing.

 

“Well...alright. Just stay still.” 

 

At that, his grin grew wider and he leaned back, lounging on the loveseat, his legs dangling off one of the armrests. 

 

“I’m all yours, Feyre.” 

 

Rolling her eyes, she set to work, shading and smudging, black, gray, and white all coming together to create what she thought was a decent portrait of Rhysand, eyes dancing with planned mischief, lips twisted in a smirk.

 

She wanted to keep it, but had a feeling he’d want it, or at least that she should offer. Signing her name at the very bottom, she ripped out the page and handed it out to him. “Done.”

 

He swung himself upright, strolled over, and examined the drawing. “Why, look at that,” he drawled. “You captured my dazzling good looks perfectly.” He grinned at her. “I’ll hang it on my fridge.” 

 

That made her laugh. His smile grew, and he started towards the window, climbing up onto the sill, carefully holding the charcoal drawing. “Mor reminded me to tell you that we’re having a little lame party in our apartment two days from now. You’re invited.”

 

With that, he bounded off the windowsill, hooking his legs over a tree branch. Feyre smirked at the side of him hanging upside down like a bat until he swung onto the fire escape across from her window with daring acrobatic skills.

* * *

 

Sure enough, two days later, she arrived at Rhys and Mor’s apartment for aforementioned party. Going into the kitchen to help Mor with snack plates, she was surprised to see her charcoal drawing indeed hung on the fridge with several magnets. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/kudos, please!


End file.
